A November birthday
That little girl of mine turned eight yesterday and let me tell you eight is big. She was wound so tightly I really don't know how she didn't pop right up and hit the ceiling, the excitement was huuuuuge. For days.
I planned on keeping the party celebrations low key, just six little girls to entertain, a carefully planned and easily contained craft to fill the time. Entirely manageable.
The snowy weather spreading across the country delayed the arrival of my crafting supplies.
Requiring an emergency raid of my clothes peg bag.
And a big box of fabric scraps.
The room was covered in fabric. It felt like there were many more than six little girls wielding scissors and glue and permanent marker pens across my table.
But I survived and there was a much deserved glass of Monday night wine and everyone got home safely before the snow began in earnest.
And that girl of mine is eight. Eight. How ever does it happen? How can it be? Growing up too fast. As I take down the decorations and watch the snow fall outside the window I think about the babies my children once were, that sweet milky breath, those beautiful lips, those warm folds of skin and baby toes. Oh my, I really miss those baby toes.
That little girl of mine turned eight yesterday and let me tell you eight is big. She was wound so tightly I really don't know how she didn't pop right up and hit the ceiling, the excitement was huuuuuge. For days.
I planned on keeping the party celebrations low key, just six little girls to entertain, a carefully planned and easily contained craft to fill the time. Entirely manageable.
The snowy weather spreading across the country delayed the arrival of my crafting supplies.
Requiring an emergency raid of my clothes peg bag.
And a big box of fabric scraps.
The room was covered in fabric. It felt like there were many more than six little girls wielding scissors and glue and permanent marker pens across my table.
But I survived and there was a much deserved glass of Monday night wine and everyone got home safely before the snow began in earnest.
And that girl of mine is eight. Eight. How ever does it happen? How can it be? Growing up too fast. As I take down the decorations and watch the snow fall outside the window I think about the babies my children once were, that sweet milky breath, those beautiful lips, those warm folds of skin and baby toes. Oh my, I really miss those baby toes.
Comments
And good for you for using what you had and making a fun time for everyone. I love the tiny clothespin doll.
Signed, the mother of a baby who became 39 in the twinkling of an eye.....
I remember my youngest turning eight, and then fifteen, twenty-one, and now twenty-four! Oh my! I've loved every stage of her life and of her older siblings. Treasure each day and year!
Nina xxx
Can't believe my little boy (and his soon-to-be-sibling) will be 8 EVER, it still seems an age away!